


From Eden

by edelscribe



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Austria-centric, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Men Crying, Protective Prussia, bee documentaries, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 05:16:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18462245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edelscribe/pseuds/edelscribe
Summary: Two men watching a documentary about bees and realising things that should have been painfully obvious.Title: From Eden, by Hozier





	From Eden

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a roleplay on Instagram with my friend @aufmeincock, so credit to him for the majority of Gilbert's dialogue. Something a little different to my other pieces, perhaps because it was written at 1am. Apologies to any SwissAus fans, I might write something for them another time. Enjoy!

Really, Roderich had been trying to come on to his best friend’s brother since the moment he’d moved in with them in the winter last year. However, it wasn’t unprompted. That would be an unfair observation. Roderich had all but grown up with Ludwig, and with Gilbert as their begrudging keeper, spending many weekends in between university lectures asleep on the older man’s sofa, or watching the two brothers playing video games while he threw hair ties at Gilbert to throw him off. (The hair ties were a product of Gilbert’s unfortunate top-knot at the time.)

It had been a natural progression really. Why shouldn’t 18-year-old Roderich fall for Ludwig’s older brother, who did all sorts of adult things like smoke and drink and work a 9 until 5? Gilbert was everything Roderich wasn’t, and it was exciting, let alone the rugged attraction of box-dye Beilschmidt and that extra inch of height he was so proud to gloat over Roderich, despite lagging behind his brother by another two at the least.

Gilbert was funny, and protective, and showed him attention which he missed being away from home. No one could blame Roderich for his crush, and neither could they blame him for his heartfelt confession at the end of his third year after yet another night of dozing on Gilbert’s shoulder, drinking warm beer and pretending they weren’t holding hands. 

The person upon whom blame could be placed was the aforementioned box-dye Beilschmidt, Gilbert, who in his pride at being 3 years older (and therefore wiser than the incompetent Roderich) and perhaps a little tipsy, had laughed. He’d laughed at Roderich’s hushed little confession and ruffled his hair, offering to fetch him another beer. 

And that is how we circle back to the start of our story, because Roderich was still foolish, still homosexual, and still utterly besotted by his best friend’s big brother 4 years on. 

That is perhaps how they ended up in their current situation, not dissimilar to that night years ago. By coming on, Roderich hardly meant sexual inuendo and suggestive groping. He meant staying up late to make Gilbert dinner when he came home from a long night and letting him choose the TV channel. He meant watching documentaries about bees at 3am with Gilbert half-asleep on his shoulder, trying to pass off his gentle touches for platonic affection.

Maybe Gilbert had, had too much white wine and didn’t notice, or maybe something else.

“You’re heavy. Change how you’re leaning on me,” came Roderich’s quiet voice, seemingly muffled by the darkness around them as if the lounge lightbulbs would make him sound louder were they on. 

“Can’t. I like this position,” With that being said, Gilbert slouched further into his seat, leaning his head against the side of Roderich’s shoulder in satisfaction at the change.

(Ever since Roderich had moved in with in with them, things weren’t as bad as Gilbert had thought they might turn out. Time could change anyone, but upon seeing the Austrian at his doorstep Gilbert began to realise how true that could be. Roderich had grown into his face, no more baby face and cheeks to pinch in the name of teasing, gone were his lanky, bordering gangly limbs, instead legs more slender- but who was paying attention to that? Certainly not Gilbert. Not once did he notice the way Roderich held himself now, confident and far less timid. Not Gilbert.)

From Roderich’s perspective beneath his mountain of blankets and a slouchy German, Gilbert had changed little. Just as loud, irritating, and sadly, disinterested. “And I like blood flow in my arms, but the world is a cruel place,” Roderich replied, as though speaking were a chore, “There’s ice cream in the fridge if you can be bothered to move and fetch it. Mn. That and two spoons sounds like heaven right now. Or perhaps one, unless you behave.” Not that Gilbert was doing anything wrong, per say, it was just his existence in general.

Gilbert, having fallen for Roderich’s ploy to gain access to the use of his arm, pulled himself up from the mass of blankets, tossing them back onto Roderich’s face again. Roderich watched him go with a weight in his stomach he could usually lift, but nights like these when he was tired and lonely, and Gilbert held him like he was more than a nuisance made it feel like lead. Gilbert’s heterosexuality was God’s cruellest joke, for sure.

“You said two spoons, right?” Came a call from the kitchen, followed by a dull thud and the clanging of cutlery. Perhaps there was a curse too, but Roderich was too deep in his own melancholy to do much else but stare at the bees on the screen, “-I don’t care. I’m bringing one. I’m not washing two spoons at 4am in the fuckin’ morning.”

Roderich had nothing creative to say in response to Gilbert’s gloating, hugging a pillow and pretending it was someone who thought he was attractive. However, his sulking couldn’t last long when the object of his affections sat back down between his legs with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a spoon. “Good boy,” Roderich mumbled, reaching for a spoon which was quickly snatched out of his arm’s reach. Roderich was sure were he any drunker he would have begun to cry.

“If you want any, we’ll have to share the spoon,” Gilbert insisted.

“I don’t want to catch arrogant. The things I do for ice-cream.”

Gilbert’s eyebrow an eyebrow, “Oho ho. What else will you do for ice-cream?”

“I’ll cry.”

“No don’t, I’m emotionally stunted,”

“You can say that- oh.” A phone had vibrated against Roderich’s thigh and he pulled it out, thinking it to be his own, Before he had time to process exactly what the notification said, Roderich was handing it over to Gilbert, except then he had processed it, and he was holding it up to his face to read it again.

Message Received (03:47)  
Baby Boy: Come over <3 x

The phone had been snatched from his hand before Roderich had a chance to ask, but it mattered little. Gilbert’s eyes were fixed on the stupid documentary. Because it was stupid. Why save the bees when the love of your life had unintentionally confirmed he liked men, but already had one. Gilbert had a boyfriend. And it was Roderich.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” So? Why did Gilbert feel the need to clarify? “we’re just… partners. Nothing serious.”

Roderich swallowed. 

“Are you okay?

Eventually, Roderich was able to muster up the least subtle response in the shape of a muttered, “Sounds fun for you,” and a small shrug. “I’m fine. Don’t let me keep you if I’m boring you. Go play partners. I’m sure it’s more entertaining than this.

It had been a comfort, believing Gilbert was straight, He wasn’t sure where the idea had come from in the first place, but it wasn’t as though he had any proof on the contrary either. For spending so much time with the man, Roderich knew worryingly little about him. And yet now he didn’t have that safety net. Gilbert hadn’t laughed because he was straight, he’d laughed because Roderich had, had the audacity to assume Gilbert might love him back, and it burned.

“Any idea when Ludwig will be home?” Roderich added, because he could do with a hug right now, as out of character as that was for a pair of physically tentative friends. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gilbert replied, turning to face Roderich with an expression so genuinely concerned Roderich felt guilty for having these feelings in the first place, “This doesn’t mean I’ll just abandon the two of you, me being in a relationship and all. I’m still here, aren’t I? And Ludwig, well, he said he’d be home in the morning, working on some coursework late at a friend’s. I don’t know. Why can’t you talk to me about whatever’s making you so- why can’t you talk to be about it?”

It was almost more infuriating from Roderich’s point of view that Gilbert didn’t seem to understand. He obviously knew about Roderich’s feelings for him, had seen them laid bare in the open and again more recently in gestures to out of character for the Austrian; it was no coincidence that whenever Gilbert came home late Roderich would be asleep on the sofa with the Netflix logo on screen. Was it so hard to understand why the idea of Gilbert spoiling some twink who obviously didn’t give a damn about him hurt?

Feeling childish and deserving of the ability to sulk, Roderich shrugged his shoulders, “Because you’re about to run off to see your- you booty call, or whatever you call it. I don’t know.” 

“It- this isn’t a relationship. I just…” Gilbert trailed off, visibly looking for labels he wasn’t used to applying, “I’m not running off anywhere, Rod. We made plans together, so we’re gonna sit and watch the damn documentary to its finish. Unless- do you want me to leave?

No! “Just shut up and watch,” Roderich said, deciding that moving the topic away from his own emotional vulnerability was probably the path to take, “Ludwig isn’t going to be happy about this when he finds out. Seeing someone without telling him? Betrayal of the brotherly bond, or something like that, aren’t I right?”

Roderich seemed to give up at that point, tension draining from his shoulders as he slumped back against Gilbert, the other clearly guilty as he threaded a hand into Roderich’s hair as a semblance of reassurance or affection or something equally as ridiculous.

“I don’t think Ludwig would care to hear about my late-night activities.” And it was clear Gilbert wanted to keep it that way.

A sickness churned in Roderich’s stomach. This was the kind of attention he craved from Gilbert, soft and purposeful, enough to pretend. What would have been bliss 20 minutes ago as hollow now. Gilbert could assure him all he liked that the other boy was nothing, but he was more than Roderich would ever be and that was enough.

“He worries about you,” Roderich murmured over the drone of the television, light flickering over their faces from the screen in the darkened room, “he can’t pick you up when you’re an absolute state if he doesn’t know who you’re with.” Of all the things that were dreadful about loving Gilbert, the intrusive thoughts were the worst; drunk kisses, warm hands, knowing he was safe and home. What Roderich wouldn’t give to have that be the reality compared to 2am Netflix binges until he passed out, praying Gilbert would make it home alright.

“I don’t like spending the night to begin with. Anyway, do you really want me to tell him I have a friends with benefits thing going on? I know we’re brothers and all, but it might be a little weird introducing him to you guys as just my fuck buddy.” 

(Gilbert didn’t want to see the boy he slept with in the same room as Roderich. He knew how alike the two were without having to see a direct comparison. He didn’t need the reality of that guilt.)

“At least leave an address taped to the fridge. It’s dangerous going out boozing and smoking,” Roderich insisted, huffing out a quiet breath, “don’t call it that. Maybe you need to actually get yourself a boyfriend if your current squeeze is leaving the leash long enough for you to use language like that.

It was a ploy, really, an attempt to get Gilbert to admit he was just experimenting with this boy, didn’t actually like men. That would be better than this.

“Boyfriend?” Gilbert hummed, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling in thought, “It would be nice to have a boyfriend,” oh joy, “it seems only god can answer my call for one of those, but I’ve been on hold for a long time now. That, and I can’t even begin to tell you how many confessions I’ve had to decline over the last few months.” Gilbert gave a sly grin.

Really, Roderich would have liked to appreciate this for what it was; Gilbert bemoaning the want of a boyfriend with his hand in Roderich’s hair, cuddled up together. It was textbook flirting, a clear sign of interest and a desperate plea for love. It would be so easy to lean over and kiss the other, to make all of these problems go away. But Gilbert, prat as he was, had to add the last comment. Had to point out that Roderich’s confession was one of many- declined, forgotten, and definitely unwanted.

“Surely if you want a boyfriend you should just accept one of the many confessions. Shouldn’t it be that easy? I can’t remember the last time someone had feelings for me. I don’t even know how you meet all of these people. You’re always dropping all of these names and yet you’re either asleep here at 4pm or with Antonio and Francis. Can’t you see why I’d- why your brother would be a little concerned? We don’t know where you are or who you’re with, let alone what you’re doing.” Well, he did know, and the answer was drugs, but that wasn’t the point.

“It’s just causal sex, Roderich, I doubt you’d want to meet him anyways-“

“I don’t. I’ve made that perfectly-“

“-And don’t you think I have good reason to be a little quiet about my sex life? I don’t understand why you’re so pressed about all of this anyway, I didn’t think you guys cared about who I fuck or don’t fuck.” Gilbert’s voice came out a little strained, as though he were holding himself back.

Roderich took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling just as exasperated as Gilbert sounded, “It’s not about your sex life, it about knowing you’re safe,” he insisted, frayed nerves only held together by the hand in his hair, “the amount of times I have to leave for work in the morning and you’re still not home from when you left the night before. It’d be reassuring if I at least you were sleeping in someone’s bed, rather than dead in a ditch if you’ll excuse the expression.”

“So you think I can’t take care of myself, Roderich?” Gilbert asked, tone accusatory whether intended or not.

Roderich genuinely groaned at this point, “It’s going in one ear and out the other isn’t it, you idiot? I’m saying that you shouldn’t have to look after yourself, but if you continue to be so stubborn, you’ll find yourself having to do just that.” Roderich pointed out a little viciously.

“God. You’re ridiculous. Does the fact I ignored his text to come over mean anything to you?”

“Not particularly. It’s about the intention. You wouldn’t leave me home alone when Ludwig won’t be back for hours; it makes you angry every time that happens. But I suppose I appreciate the sentiment even if it’s based off of your awful Tarzan ideology.” Roderich explained, shrugging a little and sitting up enough to reach for Gilbert’s phone again to dismiss the notification with a sense of finality, “If you’re expecting payment for not abandoning your best friend for sex, it’ll have to be a kiss. I don’t want to catch whatever you get out there.”

Gilbert sneered down at the smaller man, shaking his head, “Nah, nah. I get mad that you’re willing to stay alone at home when you could be going out. You’re young, Roddy, why don’t you go out and make mistakes like everyone else?” However, this smug aura from Gilbert did seem a little thrown off by Roderich’s sarcasm and he visibly floundered, “I- Do you want me to kiss you?”

The joke should have been harmless, really. Gilbert should have elbowed him or made some ridiculous kissy face and they would have moved on. But now, Roderich was faced with two options; kiss Gilbert, or lie. The option was there, to lean in, to kiss his crush who he knew liked men, and had stayed home rather than gone out, who was pressed ever so close. Roderich made a decision. 

“Not with your terrible teeth brushing schedule. Who knows what’s living in there?”

Deciding the best course of action was to move on, Roderich picked up Gilbert’s first point again, “Pack it in, Gil. Last month when Ludwig left me in the apartment alone on my own you wouldn’t talk to him for a day and a half because he hadn’t checked all of the window locks. You deleted Grindr from my phone to make sure I didn’t meet up with strangers. I’m quite happy drinking wine and staying warm than going out to drink over-priced beer and get groped.” 

“Please,” Began Gilbert’s pitiful attempt at denial, “I was only mad at him because that was after I binge watched Criminal Minds. Anyone could’ve waltzed in and done something to you!” And as for Grindr, you can’t hold that against me; Ludwig agreed, and I just happened to be the guy to carry out what was necessary. And you’re better than Grindr. Go for something classy, I don’t know. Is eHarmony still a thing?” 

“eHarmony? You’re ridiculous,” Roderich grumbled, because it was, and they’d deleted his account right when he’d started to get into it. It was like being surrounded by two ridiculously burly mother hens. Roderich felt as though he’d been caught watching porn or something, “I’ve had one boyfriend my entire life, Gilbert, give me a break. I’m not very lucky with this sort of thing. How am I supposed to meet someone if I can’t leave the house alone and can’t use dating apps?”

Gilbert’s expression was entirely sceptical, “You’re lying, Roderich. I know you are,” he began, “There’s that kid from you, uh, music class? The annoying one with the French horn. I thought you guys were definitely a thing. Besides, you’re speaking as though we keep you a prisoner here. I’d take you out drinking if that’s what you really want.”

“I’ve only ever dated Vasch and you know how that went. Stop being so mean,” Roderich retaliated with a jab, “I’m just a little difficult to get along with, I suppose. It’ll work out one day. I’ll have to decline that offer, though; I know your friends think I’m boring.”

It wasn’t as if Roderich hadn’t experimented with other guys- he’d almost slept with Antonio, but perhaps even more awkward than it actually happening, the Spaniard had put a stop to it in order not to spoil Roderich’s chances with Gilbert before he confessed. So much for that.

“That’s because Vasch was a pompous asshole. I have every right to be mean- he played the French horn.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust, “Everyone knows sociopaths have a history of playing the French horn. That was your first red flag, Rod.”

Roderich tried to pretend he wasn’t pouting, “Vasch was perfectly nice and took me on very nice dates. Just because he wasn’t very good at expressing himself doesn’t mean he was an asshole.”

Gilbert just groaned and pulled Roderich’s hair sharply. “Just come out with me. I could just be us, unless you want to invite Ludwig, but I’m not sure how I’d feel about having to babysit a drunk you and tips Ludwig. Despite my, mn, impressive build, I’m only one man.”

“The idea of you actually being a responsible adult feels a little foreign, Gil. I’ll have to decline that offer out of fear for my own well-being and you trying to send me home with some strange man.”

Gilbert’s face looked oddly neutral for a second, and Roderich could all but hear the cogs whirring inside his head, “I couldn’t send you home with anyone, Roderich,” he said slowly, as if trying to fit all of his words together in order to reach a suitable conclusion, “because you… you obviously don’t know how to kiss properly, if you’ve only been with Vasch. Yeah. ‘Cause that boy kissed like a statue. So- you need more experience.”

Really, honestly, Roderich had never expected Gilbert to actually kiss him. The concept of Gilbert doing the one thing he’d always fantasised about was so far out of the realms of logic that even contemplating it was ridiculous. However, Gilbert’s intentions were clear and bold and moving far more quickly for Roderich to do anything but register each sensation as it came. Firm hand on his shoulder. Hot breath by his cheek. Soft thumb against his neck. Lips on his own.

Roderich may have gasped, he didn’t really remember, eyes closing and his own hand reaching for Gilbert’s shirt to hold. Kissing back was an afterthought, too busy processing the burst of warmth in his chest and something like wetness on his own cheeks. 

By the time Roderich actually registered what Gilbert had said, what he’d implied his intentions were in kissing Roderich (hardly very noble), he was already pushing closer, kissing back. Too late. 

By the time Gilbert broke the kiss, still holding him close but expression one of dumbfounded panic, Roderich was breathless. He seemed calm for the most part, but there was a reason for that- he wanted an explanation. He wasn’t about to throw himself into Gilbert’s arms when the pretext of the kiss had been so grey. “Why did you kiss me?” Sure, he was crying a little, but that could have meant anything.

The room was quiet now, the light of the end-credits of the documentary the only thing showing Gilbert’s face in the darkened room. “Gilbert? Why did you kiss me?” 

“I’m sorry,” Gilbert wasn’t making eye-contact, “I crossed a line. I crossed several lines. All of the lines have been crossed by me. I’m sorry,” he rambled on, detaching himself from Roderich, “I don’t know why I kissed you, I just. It felt- You mentioned it before, and I just did it and you were just messing with me.” Gilbert’s guilt was thick grey, surrounding the older man and pushing Gilbert away, “Roddy. I’m an asshole. I kissed you because I wanted to. I’m an asshole because I took advantage of you for that. I’m an asshole because I don’t you to run away and I want to keep you and I want you to forgive me, but I don’t deserve that.

It wasn’t the reaction Roderich had expected. It asked more questions that it answered, and it was scarily out of character for Gilbert to be so repentant for a simple kiss. Just how much did he actually mean to Gilbert?

“Took advantage of me? The protective streak is comforting sometimes Gilbert, but I’m not a damsel in distress. You didn’t answer my question, Gil. Why did you kiss me? Why did you want to kiss me?” If Gilbert even suggested this was a purely sexual thing, he would be castrated and fed to Ludwig’s Pomeranian.

(When Roderich had confessed to Gilbert, he’d poured his heart into it. He’d spent days planning it in his mind, and had probably looked utterly pathetic doing it, asking his best friend’s older brother if he would please go on a date with him to the new restaurant down the street, because Roderich thought he was really attractive and Gilbert sometimes looked at him a certain way, and didn’t that mean something?)

“I’m not angry. Just talk to me, Gilbert.”

Gilbert dropped his head into his hands and looked down at the floor between his legs, his expression hidden and only his tuft of (box dye) grey hair visible. “If I’m not looking out for you, who is? I’m only saying this so you might have a… a better understanding of how I feel, okay, Roddy? I don’t want you thinkin’ I was making fun of you with that kiss.” Gilbert took a shuddering sigh and groaned into his palms, “I kissed you because… because you’re cute. I kissed you because I like you.”

Never had Roderich heard Gilbert sound so insecure, so unconfident in himself and what he had to say, and it hurt to hear, that he was making Gilbert feel like this, but Gilbert owed him this honesty for what he’d put him through when they were younger. Roderich reached over and placed a hand on Gilbert’s hunched back, reassuring, even as tears rolled down his own cheeks. Gilbert continued. 

“It’s been a while since I realised that I liked you more than a friend. I kissed you because it’s all I’ve been thinking about doing since you moved in.”

Roderich was quiet for a while longer. He was waiting to hear what Gilbert might say, and also to get all of his thoughts in order. But really, there was only one thing he could say. 

“You, Gilbert, are the absolute worst person I have ever met. Christ, Gil. Just sit up and kiss me again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my Austria account on Instagram @weich.osterreich, and please leave comments and kudos x


End file.
